My Rockstar
by notsohardnow
Summary: Yaoi. TxM! Mat does drugs, he's suicidal, and his world is getting more and more crazy because he shows up on Tais doorstep not remembering a thing every day and keeps on going. R&R first Digimon fic.


**I was inspired by a conversation my b/f and I had. Parts happened and other parts didn't but its all for a delicious yaoi story. It, and the chapters, won't be long! So I'm writing a passionate yaoi story about Rockstar Mat and Sweety-pie Tai. Please enjoy and thank you.**

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I loved him. I loved his face. His sexy body. I loved him. His personality and his eyes. I loved his voice and I loved to hold him. His face so long and slender, big blue eyes covered with sleepy eyelids and heavy eyelashes which cast shadows down his cheeks in this dim light. His long, slender body curled up against mine, his heay blonde head on my shoulder and over my arm as he sleeps close to me in my bed. His shirt, a baggy green one and shorts frm when he ran to my house three hours ago. It covers his small, bruised body and my little rockstar snuggles closer under the covers and I'm happy for the air-conditioning.

I was almost asleep when he pounded on the door of my apartment, I would have ignored it had my mother and sister not been home. So I got up out of my warm bed with my long, plaid pants tripping me as I walked to the door.I flung it open angry someone could even be so rude as to come to someone's house at two o'clock in the morning on a Friday night. But then I saw it was Mat. I ushered him in and asked him why he walked all the way over here at such a time and why he was barely wearing anything when it was autumn and cold. He was shivering but not from the cold, I took him in and made him soup but he refused to touch it. I sighed an put it in the microwave and gently took his hand and ead him into my bedroom.

He was shivering so violently with his knees pulled up to his chest and rocking slightly back and forth, I asked him what was wrong. He shook his head violently from side-to-side and I watched him, sadly, for he was not consolable. After many long minutes my Mat opened his mouth and no words came out just a long, howling wail and e burst into tears. I hugged him tight, I hated to see him cry. He snivelled and sobbed and rubbed his eyes looking at me opening his mouth, wanting to speak but he couldn't he just cried and cried and cried. For a good hour and a half thats all he did. Finally his voice was hoarse and he couldn't say a word and when I asked what was wrong he yanked off his shirt.

My mind reeled at his bruises and scratches and brushburns all over his body I gasped and looked at him, my Mat, he fell on me and held onto me like I might leave him and like I would leave him. I told him I would never leave him, that I loved him, and he would be okay. I kissed his forehead, his tear-staned cheeks, and his quivering lips. Nothing. I then put my hand on one of the bruises, on his ribs, and he squealed and tried to smack me away. I apologized but still he cried, and after another fifteen minutes he curled up close to me. I laid down in my bed and he fell fast asleep. But the way his hands held onto mine I knew what had happened and I knew why. I stroked his hair until I knew he was as comforted as he would allow himself to be.

When I knew my little rockstar was fast asleep I pulled his arm close and bent it to see the inside of his elbow, there were the little bite from a needle strung together with his blue vains like a spider's web. My lover, my boyfriend, he had been out again, out with his band. They did drugs and drank and Mat would too until he was as high as a quite and as plastered as a wall and he'd stumble home. Home. More like he stumbled to his house. His father... I hated him. He beat Mat constantly, he'd kick him and throw him down and as Mat would cry endlessly and ask what he did as high and drunk as he was. Then his father would stop call him worthless and Mat would run to me. Terrified. Crying. Clueless. But I loved him and I would help him.

When he woke-up he wouldn't know where he was or why and I would tell him evething and he'd blush and laug that gorgeous laugh and I would think nothing of it. He was my best friend, my boyfriend, my lover. I'd die without him. I hugged him close and he cuddled into me even closer like a little boy. I held him and inhaled his sweet scent and he slept. This was bliss, my biggest happiness in the world was to hold him, his hand, his body, his everything.

Then I myslef would fall asleep and dream blissful dreams about my rockstar on the big stage, drug-free and me backstage waiting for him with a kiss. Waiting and when he looked over as he sang before huge masses of people I was happy and would mouth the words: "I love you"... then I opened my eyes and there he was genuinley confused.

"Wh--" he looked at me "Why am I here.. Tai?" he asked slepily and I told him everyhting and he did not blush and laugh! He looked at me sadly and mumbled: "I wish I'd stop doing this."

I'd nod, "Me too sweetheart" I said "Do you want to tell--"

He looked terrified "NO! We can't tell anyone! I get locked up!" he began to panic and it was then he'd say all of his fears: what if he got caught? what if his dad found out? what if his mother abandonned him for loving me? What if he lost me? And that was when his tears would fall but only one or two. When he was sober or not high he never cried as violently as he did when he was drunk and high and I'd hug him.

"Its okay sweetheart" I'd tell him, "Don't cry sweety" and he'd let me hug him and he'd nod and say I was right that we should tell someone. Like always. But he never would. And today was no different.

I got up and got dressed. He borrowed my pants, my shirt and my jacket. My letterman, sports jacket with a big "T" on the back and the number 21, the number on my soccer uniform. It was sort of decleration that he was mine. I never wore Mat's clohes or jackets, I guess that makes Mat the girl in our relationship. No matter how we bicker I love him to death. I love him. And we'd walk to school together hand in hand joking and poking each other and smiling then when school loomed closer he'd let go of my hand and girls would gawk and say things like: "I can't believe they're gay!" "But they're so cute" and guys would say: "Faggots!" "Homo-queer-bait" and that was when Mat shined, he flipped them off or shoved his books into my hand and tell them to bring it on. No one ever did.

My little rockstar, he'd go to class and keep his sleeves down and kept from wincing when his bruises got hit. He was very different in school as opposed to outside of school. But I loved him, I only wsh he'd get some help.


End file.
